The Mask

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Hickey took another drink and snickered. Handsome looked thoughtful.
After a pause, he said:

"What your boss' name?"

"Monsieur Traynor of the Americo-African Mining Co."

Handsome started.

"What? Kenneth Traynor, of the Americo-African Mining Company--the
people who made those sensational finds."

"Yes--he's vice-president of the company."

Handsome gave a low, expressive whistle.

"He's rich--all right! Do you know what those stones are worth?"

"Over a million dollairs."

"And he came out here to----"

The valet nodded.

"_Oui_--zat's it--to get ze big diamonds. We're on our way back from
ze mines now. He has ze stones in his possession."

"And taking them to New York?" gasped Handsome; "a million dollars'
worth?"

"Yes--taking zem to New York. That's what he came out for. We want to
reach ze coast as soon as possible. Again I ask. Will you guide us
back to ze trail?"

For a few moments Handsome made no answer. The thoughtful expression
on his pale, care-worn face showed that he was thinking hard. What was
passing in his mind no one knew, but whatever it was it caused the
lines about his strong mouth to tighten and the steely blue eyes to
flash. A million dollars? God! What will a man not do for a million
dollars? Turning to the valet, he said hastily:

"Yes, I'm on. Take me to your party. I'll show you the trail. Quick,
lead the way."

CHAPTER VIII

Traveling to and from the diamond fields in the days immediately
following the first rush was not an unmixed joy. Express wagons drawn
by eight horses or mules and running from Cape Town to Klipdrift once a
week charged passengers sixty dollars a head, the journey across the
plains taking about eight days. Travelers whose business was so urgent
that they could not wait for the regular stage had to hire a team of
their own at a much higher expense.

Kenneth did not mind the cost, if only he was able to make good time.
The trip to the mines had been accomplished without mishap. Everything
had gone as well as could be desired. He had been successful in
securing valuable land options for the company, and at last the two
precious stones were in his possession. That it was a big
responsibility, he fully realized. The very knowledge that he had on
his person gems worth over a million dollars, and this in a wild,
uncivilized country where at any moment he might be followed, ambushed
and killed, and no one the wiser, was not calculated to calm his
nerves. But Kenneth Traynor had never known the meaning of the word
fear. He was ready for any emergency and he went about unarmed, cool
and unruffled. From his demeanor at least no one could guess that he
ever gave a thought to the valuable consignment of which he was the
guardian. Of course, it had been impossible to keep the thing secret.
Everybody at the mines knew he had come out for the purpose of taking
the big stones to America. Even his drivers knew, and so did Francois.
The news was public property and was eagerly discussed over every camp
fire as one of the sensations of the day. All this publicity did not
tend to lessen the risk, and that was why he was so anxious to reach
Cape Town without the least possible delay. He had timed his departure
from the mines so as to just catch the steamer for England, and now,
after all his trouble and careful calculation, the fool mule drivers
had gone and lost the trail. It was most exasperating.

The wagon had come to a halt the night before under shelter of a
fair-sized kopjie. The mules, tormented by the deadly _tetse_ fly,
stood whisking their tails and biting savagely at their hereditary
enemy; the drivers, indifferent and stolid, sat on the ground smoking
their pipes, while Kenneth, fuming at this unlooked for mishap which
threatened an even more serious delay, strode up and down the _veldt_,
swearing at the mules, the stolid drivers and everything else in sight.

Francois, who had left camp for assistance long before sunrise, had not
yet returned. Unless help came soon they'd be held there another
night. There was no use trying to proceed without a guide, for they
might find themselves going round and round in a circle. There was
nothing to do but wait until help came.

Sitting down on the stump of a tree near the fire, he tried to possess
his soul in patience while one of the teamsters, who also officiated as
cook, busied himself getting breakfast. It was now broad daylight; the
weather clear and cold. As he sat there idly and smoked reflectively,
his thoughts wandered homeward, four thousand miles across the seas.
He wondered what Helen was doing, if little Dorothy was well, if
everything was all right. Only now he realized what the word home
meant to him, and a chill ran through him as he thought of all the
things that could happen. Yet how foolish it was to worry. What could
happen? Helen had her sister constantly with her, and she was well
looked after by Mr. Parker and Wilbur Steell. It was absurd to have
any anxiety on that score. Besides, if anything had gone wrong, they
would certainly have called him. He had had several letters from
Helen, all of them saying she and baby were well and waiting eagerly
for his return. Yes, he would soon be home now. In another two days
he would reach Cape Town. From there to Southampton was only a
fortnight's sail, and in another week he would be in New York.

These and kindred thoughts of home ran through his mind as he sat
before the camp fire and tranquilly smoked his pipe. The drivers were
busying themselves cleaning the harness, the mules were docilely
browsing, the air was filled by a fragrant odor of coffee. His
memories went back to his boyhood days. He recalled what the old nurse
had told him about a twin brother. How strange it would be if he ever
turned up. Such things were possible, of course, but hardly probable.
No, the chances were that he was dead. If he had lived, how different
everything might have been. He would have inherited half their
father's money. What had been enough to start one so well in life
would only have been a meagre provision for two. Yet it might have
been an advantage, forced him to still greater effort. He might have
got even farther than he had--who knows?

At that moment his reflections were interrupted by the sound of voices
in the distance. He heard some one running. One of the teamsters came
up hurriedly and exclaimed breathlessly:

"He's found some one, sir; he's got two men with him. They're coming
now."

Kenneth jumped up and, shading his eyes, looked out across the yellow
waste of stones and gravel. About a mile away he saw Francois,
accompanied by two strangers, who looked like miners. They were
tattered and miserable looking, as if down on their luck. One of them
was limping as if lame; the other, much taller, although ragged and
forlorn, had a soldierly bearing and the appearance of a gentleman.
The valet, who had been walking faster than his companions, came up at
that instant.

"Who have you got there?" demanded Kenneth.

"Two miners, monsieur. I found zem several miles away on ze _veldt_.
They have tramped for days without food; they are starving."

"Do they know the trail?"

"Yes, monsieur. Ze big man knows ze trail. He will show ze way--for a
consideration."

"Good! First give them some breakfast and then we'll go."

He waved his hand in the direction of the cook's mess, where the coffee
was already steaming on the fire, and, turning away, began to gather
his things together, preparatory to departure. There was no reason why
he should have anything to say to the strangers. In fact, it would be
better if they did not see him, or know who he was. It was possible
that they had been at the mines when he arrived, in which case they
would instantly recognize him as the American who had come to take the
big diamonds to New York. Besides, they were not particularly
attractive objects. What did their adventures and mishaps matter to
him? He had troubles of his own. Francois could look after their
wants. The main thing was to find the trail and get started back
toward Cape Town as soon as possible. When the strangers had been fed
they would set out, and, the trail once found, he would give them a
lift on their way and a few sovereigns into the bargain. That would
more than compensate them for all their trouble.

Meanwhile he thought he would take a quiet walk. His legs were stiff
from sitting so long. A little exercise would do him the world of
good. So, without a word to anybody, he slipped out of camp unobserved
and started off at a brisk gait.

The region where they had halted seemed to be the center of Nowhere, a
land where had reigned for all time the abomination of desolation
spoken of by all the prophets. Knocking about the world, as he had
done for a lifetime, Kenneth had seen some queer spots in the world,
but never had he come across so savagely repellent a spot as this. It
was Nature in her harshest mood--not a vestige in any direction of
human or animal life. There was not a farm, not a Boer or Kaffir, not
even a tree to be seen. Nothing in every direction but a monotonous
waste of yellow sand, rough stones and stunted grass. An unnatural
stillness filled the air, making the silence oppressive, and uncanny.
The soil was so poor that cultivation was impossible. The ground,
strewn with broken rocks and sharp stones which cut the shoes and hurt
the feet, suggested that in prehistoric times the plateau had been
swept by a volcanic tempest. The slopes of the few scattered kopjies
were sparsely covered with verdure and as he strode along, he passed
here and there clumps of trees, veritable oases in the desert, or deep
water holes under overhanging rocks where under cover of night, strange
beasts came to drink. Apart from these few oases, it was a dreary
monotonous waste of rock and sand, where neither beast or man could
find food or shelter.

He had walked about three miles and was just passing a kopjie where a
group of stunted trees offered a little shelter from the glare of the
sun on the yellow gravel when he began to feel tired. Sitting down on
a decayed tree stump, he took out his pipe, removed his helmet, and
laying lazily back, closed his eyes, a favorite trick of his when he
wished to concentrate his thoughts.

The trip, tiresome as it was, had certainly been worth while. His
ambitious dreams had been more than realized. He could scarcely wait
for his arrival to tell Helen the good news. He had secured signatures
to a plan of consolidation of practically all the mining companies
operating in South Africa. Until now, these companies had been engaged
in a fierce and disastrous competition, which cut into each other's
profits and cheapened the market price of stones. He had suggested a
scheme of amalgamation which would put all the mines under one
management, and fix arbitrary prices for diamonds which henceforth
could not be sold under a certain figure agreed upon by the Syndicate.
This plan, which had the general approval of the mining companies,
practically gave Kenneth Traynor control of the diamond industry of the
world, an industry which in South Africa alone had already produced
100,000,000 carats estimated to be worth $750,000,000. Overnight,
Kenneth found himself many times a millionaire.

It had come at last--what he waited for all these years. This new
consolidation deal meant great wealth to its promoters. What would he
do with it? Most men need only enough for their actual needs, but he
had higher aims. An ardent socialist he would use his money for the
cause. Not, however, in the way others did, but to buy influence,
power. He would fight Capitalism, in his own way. He would go into
politics, run for public office, try and remedy some of the economic
abuses from which people of the United States were now suffering. He
would wage warfare on the high cost of living, on Greed and Graft. He
would attack the Plutocracy in its stronghold, lay bare the inner
workings of the System, the concentration of the wealth of the entire
country in the hands of a few, by which the rich each year were
becoming richer and the poor each year poorer. It would not be the
first time a multi-millionaire had espoused the cause of the
proletariat, but he would carry on the fight more vigorously than
anyone had done. He would force an issue, make Greed disgorge its
ill-gotten gains and accord to Labor its rightful place in the sun, its
proper share of the world's production of wealth. His sympathies in
the bitter struggle between the capitalists and the wage earners were
wholly with the people who under the present wage system, had little
chance to raise themselves from the mire. But he was intelligent
enough to realize that the faults were not all on the side of Capital.
Labor, too, needed the curb at times. Too ready to listen to the
reckless harangues of irresponsible professional demagogues, wage
earners were often as tyrannical as capitalists, insisting on
impossible demands, rejecting sober compromise which, in the end, must
be the basis of all amicable relations between employer and employed.

For some time he sat there, giving free rein to his imagination, when
suddenly he fancied he heard the sound of heavy footsteps crunching on
the hard sand. Raising his head he looked quickly round but seeing no
one, concluded he was mistaken. Looking at his watch, he was amazed to
find that he had been away from camp a whole hour. There was no time
to be lost. The men had certainly finished eating by now; they could
start at once. Jumping up he turned round to retrace his steps the
same way he had come, when, suddenly, a shadow fell between him and the
white road. Looking up, he was startled to see himself reflected as in
a mirror against the green background of the kopjie.

At first he thought he must be ill. The walk, the sun, the exposure
had no doubt overstimulated him and made him excited and feverish. He
was seeing things. His success with the diamond deal had affected his
brain. Of course, it was only an hallucination. The next time he
looked this fantastic creation of his disordered mind would be gone.
Again he glanced up in the direction of the kopjie. The apparition was
still there, a horrible, monstrous, distortion of himself, standing
still, speechless, staring at him. That it was only a mirage there
could be no doubt. He had heard of such mirages at sea and also in the
Sahara where wandering Arabs have beheld long caravans journeying in
the skies. But he had never heard of a mirage lasting as long as this
one. Would it never disappear? It must be a nightmare which still
obsessed him. That was it. He had fallen asleep on the tree and was
not yet awake. With an effort he made a step forward and tried to
articulate, but the words stuck in his throat. Suddenly the spell was
broken by the apparition itself, which moved and spoke. He recognized
who it was now--one of the strangers brought in by Francois--but that
astonishing likeness of himself--

Judging by the astonished expression on his face, Handsome was just as
much surprised as Kenneth at the encounter. After satisfying his
hunger he, too, had strayed away from the camp, unable to control his
impatience while the teamsters were harnessing the mule team. He had
left Hickey to gorge still more while he strutted on by himself,
cogitating on what the valet had told him in regard to the diamonds.
This sudden meeting with the very man who had been uppermost in his
thoughts was surprising enough, and instantly he, also, was struck with
the extraordinary resemblance between them.

"Who the devil are you?" he demanded in surly tones.

Thus rudely aroused to the reality, and seeing that it was really a
creature of flesh and blood he had to deal with and not a creature of
another world, Kenneth answered haughtily:

"I'm not accustomed to being addressed in that manner."

Handsome laughed mockingly. With affected politeness he retorted:

"Your lordship's servant! What is his lordship's pleasure?"

Kenneth did not hear the taunting reply or heed the sneer. He was
still staring at this counterpart of himself, this very image yet who
was not himself, but a human derelict, a wretched, sodden outcast. All
at once, an overwhelming, horrible suggestion rushed across his brain.
Could it be, was it--his long lost twin brother? Almost gasping, he
demanded:

"Who are you?"

Handsome chuckled.

"I don't know."

"What is your name?"

The man chuckled.

"They call me Handsome. That's because I'm a good looker. I have had
a good many other names, but I've forgotten what they are. The police
know. It's all in the records."

"My God--a police record!"

"What of it?" Bitterly he added: "We can't all be fine gentlemen and
millionaires."

"Where are you from?"

"Nowhere."

"Who were your parents?"

"Never had any that I know of."

Kenneth started forward and, seizing the man's left hand, closely
examined it. Yes, there was the scar on the index finger of the left
hand. No further doubt was possible. This was his brother. Handsome,
meantime, had been watching the other's agitation with mingled interest
and amusement.

Hoarsely, Kenneth cried:

"Where have you been all these years?"

Handsome stared as if he thought his interlocutor had gone crazy.
Almost angrily he retorted:

"What d----d business is it of yours?"

Paying no heed to the miner's offensive attitude, and anxious only to
learn something of his history, Kenneth approached him and held out his
hand.

"I wish to be your friend."

Handsome drew back suspiciously. Always associated with evil himself,
he looked for only evil from others. Bitterly he retorted:

"My friend--what do your kind care for poor devils like me?"

For answer, Kenneth removed his helmet, suddenly revealing the solitary
lock of white hair. Handsome fell back in surprise. For the first
time he realized the extraordinary resemblance. He had noticed a
marked likeness before, but now the diamond promoter's helmet was off,
it was positively startling. Hoarsely he exclaimed:

"The devil! Who are you? You look just like----"

Kenneth looked at him keenly for a moment. Then he said calmly:

"Yes--I look just like you. No wonder. You are--my brother!"

[Illustration: "Yes, you are my brother. We are twins."]

"Your brother?"

"Yes--my brother. We are twins. You were kidnapped by gypsies
thirty-two years ago. Our old nurse told me the story for the first
time the day before I sailed from New York. She also told me about
that scar on your hand. You cut it badly when you were a year old and
the scar has remained ever since. Everybody believed you dead. Where
have you been all these years?"

Handsome made no answer but fell back a few steps, and passed his hand
over his brow as if bewildered. This astonishing revelation had been
made so suddenly that it had left him dazed. A wild, improbable tale,
it seemed, yet perhaps there was some truth in it. He had never known
who his parents were and it had always seemed to him that he came of
better stock than those with whom he associated. Then again, there was
the ridiculous likeness. One had only to look at them both--it was the
same face.

Slowly, gradually, as he looked more closely at Kenneth the conviction
grew stronger that this, indeed, was his brother, his own flesh and
blood, yet it aroused within him no emotion and left him entirely cold.
No impulse seized him to throw himself into this man's arms and embrace
him. His heart was steeled against the world. Human affection and
sympathy had dried up in his breast years ago. What he saw was not a
kinsman, a brother, but a man who had succeeded in life where he had
failed, a man who was rich and happy while he was poor and miserable, a
man who had everything while he had nothing. And if the tale were
true, if indeed, he were this rich man's brother, it only made matters
worse, for he had been robbed of his rightful inheritance. This rich
man was enjoying wealth half of which rightfully belonged to him.

Again Kenneth demanded:

"Where have you been all these years?"

"Here, there, everywhere," was the sullen answer. "London, Paris,
Brussels, Vienna, New York, Boston, Chicago, Havana, Buenos Ayres. I
know them all and they know me--perhaps too well. My earliest
recollection is of the Italian quarter in New York, a long narrow
always dirty street, bordered on either side by dilapidated greasy
tenements, ricketty fire escapes filled with biddy and garbage. Pietro
lived there and kept his organ in the basement cellar. When Pietro
went out with the organ he took me along to excite sympathy. Until I
was fifteen years old I begged to support Pietro. One day he beat me
and I ran away and shipped as cabin boy on a sailing vessel bound for
Liverpool. I reached London and found employment as stable boy at
Ascot. There I learned the fatal fascination of gambling. With what I
saved from my wages I bet on the horses. I won and won again. I went
back to London and frequented the gambling houses. I won, always won.
One day there was a row. Someone complained I had cheated. The police
arrested me. When I left jail I went to the continent and began
gambling again. I have gambled ever since." Pointing in the direction
of the mines he added bitterly:

"That was my last gamble and I lost. That's all I have to tell."

Kenneth listened with keen interest. When the other stopped speaking
he asked:

"And now--what will you do?"

Handsome shrugged his shoulders and made no answer. Kenneth went on:

"You can't keep up the old life--that is impossible. You owe something
to the blood that's running in your veins. There is only one thing for
you to do. You must break off with the past for good, and come home
with me. Are you known in New York?"

Handsome shook his head.

"No, I never returned there since I was a child."

"Your operations in America were confined to San Francisco, Chicago and
St. Louis----"

"Yes."

Kenneth breathed more freely.

"That makes matters easier. No one in New York, therefore, has
anything against you. There it will be possible to live down your
past. You will cease being an outcast, a wanderer on the face of the
earth. You will take the place in society for which Nature intended
you."

Handsome smiled cynically. Grimly he replied:

"I guess Nature never expected much of me."

"You never can tell," said Kenneth quickly. "Your environments no
doubt were responsible for your downfall. You have been a victim of
circumstances."

Handsome was silent. This free roving life had come second nature to
him. He looked with suspicion on any other. After a pause, he asked:

"What can I do in New York?"

"I will dress and house you like a gentleman. For a time you can make
your home with us. If we find we can't agree, well--we'll part. I
will find you employment----"

Handsome laughed. Mockingly he said:

"Then I am to be dependent on you----"

"No--not on me----. On your own efforts. There is no reason why, if
given a chance, you will not make a success in the world. You are
still young and energetic. I will give you a start in any line you
wish to enter. I will make you a present of $10,000. It should be
enough capital to start in any business."

Handsome shrugged his shoulders.

"Charity?" he exclaimed.

"No--not charity--brotherly affection."

His brother laughed mockingly. Bitterly he exclaimed:

"Maybe it's conscience money."

"What do you mean?"

"You inherited from our father, didn't you?"

"Yes--but I've increased it a hundred-fold by my own efforts."

"How much did he leave you?"

"Twenty thousand dollars."

"Why didn't he leave me some?"

"He believed you dead. The sum I offer you is the sum you would have
inherited from our father had he known you were living. Do you accept?"

Handsome was silent. His brain was working fast. What this man
offered him was the merest pittance. Put out at interest, it would
give him the princely income of $10 a week. What did he care for the
good opinion of the world? He had knocked about so long, roughing it
everywhere, that he might as well end as he had begun--an adventurer.
Suddenly there flashed across his brain a wild, audacious idea--a
scheme so fantastic, so fraught with adventure and peril that the very
thought gave him a thrill. It involved violence, possibly a crime.
Well, what of it? He was not the kind to be deterred by trifles. This
man was nothing to him. Brotherly love, family ties--these were simply
phrases to one who had never known them. He knew and obeyed only one
instinct--the fight for life, the survival of the fittest. Society had
waged war on him; he would be merciless in his war on society. This
man--this alleged brother, threw him a sop, insulted him by offering
him charity. Why should he hesitate? It was his life or another's.
There was a big prize to be won. Life was sweet when one has millions
to enjoy it with. This man had now on his person diamonds worth over a
million and he had more millions at home. Suppose something happened
to this man here in South Africa and he went home in his stead to take
his place in his household and enjoy his millions? Who would know the
difference?

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